


Run From What's Comfortable

by Andiandyandee



Series: Parental Logince Punk AU [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Punk, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders Needs a Hug, Logic | Logan Sanders is Anxiety | Virgil Sanders' Parent, Logince - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Piercings, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Tattoos, Teen Patton Sanders, ask to tag, paternal logince - Freeform, teen Virgil Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23491195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andiandyandee/pseuds/Andiandyandee
Summary: Virgil gets his first tattoo. Logan is not happy.(Yeah the title is a Pat the Bunny song fight me on it)
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: Parental Logince Punk AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688290
Comments: 9
Kudos: 174





	Run From What's Comfortable

Virgil and his Papa had their first actual fight when he was fifteen. They had plenty of small, meaningless fights in his life, but this was the first one that didn’t end with an apology, a coffee, and a quiet conversation. 

“What does it even MATTER? I’m fifteen, it’s not like I’m a child anymore. YOU had tattoos when you were fifteen!”

“Yes, I did, and it was stupid when I DID IT TOO.” 

“So what, I’m stupid then? Just because none of us are as smart as you doesn’t mean we aren’t smart, Logan.” He said the name like it was an insult. There was an anger reflected in the blue eyes the two shared. 

“Excuse me? I have never once said you, your brother, or your father were anything of the sort. You’re right. You’re fifteen years old, and you need to stop acting like a CHILD. You don’t get to throw a tantrum every time you don’t get your way. And you certainly don’t get to SNEAK OUT and do whatever you want when your father and I tell you NO.” Logan could feel the dull pounding at the back of his head, indicating this particular conversation was going to give him a migraine. “Go bandage that- whatever it is- and go to your room, Virgil. I am not having this conversation right now. You can speak with Roman when he gets home.”

Virgil deflated at that. Papa very, very rarely used his actual first name. It was something they had agreed upon when Virgil had turned 13. He wanted a nickname, something that felt less formal and nerdy. Papa hadn’t understood, but agreed anyway, and had called him nothing but ‘Virge’ or ‘Vee’ since. He was too mad to see the way Logan has started to go pale.

“You know what? No. I won’t go to my room. Either stand here and have this conversation now, or I’m leaving. I’ll go stay with Dee or something.” Logan winced at that. 

“Virge-”

“NO. Either talk to me or I’ll go! I’ll call him right now.” Logan closed his eyes for a second, then nodded.

“If you’d rather stay with your cousin than cease the conversation, then by all means, go pack a bag. I’ll make the call and drop you off.” Logan turned to his phone, sitting on the table. He didn’t want Virgil to see the way tears were welling up in his eyes, or the way his hands shook when he dialed the number. Virgil stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, then nodded slowly and went to his room. He grabbed the pile of clothes that were folded on his bed- probably Papa’s doing- and shoved them in his bookbag. He pulled on his boots and grabbed his jacket and hoodie off the door, and stomped back down the stairs. He didn’t look up when he passed Logan, who was still on the phone, and went to sit in the car. When Logan came out, still in his work clothes, his eyes were red. His jaw was set as if he knew if he opened it he would say something he would regret, and he started the car with the only words he said being, “Seat belt. Now.” Virgil complied. Nothing was said for 25 minutes, Virgil staring at his phone, so he was surprised when they pulled up to a tattoo shop. Not the one Virgil had gotten his tattoo at, which was more like someone’s garage, but an actual, proper tattoo shop. Logan got out, went inside, and was talking with the person at the desk, who looked to be in their late twenties, early thirties. Much too young to have been one of Papa’s friends, but possibly Dee’s age. The person behind the counter gave Logan a bag, and Logan handed them some money, and they both laughed at something. Logan’s smile was gone by the time he got back into the car, settling into the stoic, neutral look that Virgil knows is reserved for when he’s trying to avoid any emotions whatsoever. 

Logan dropped the bag and a sheet of paper onto Virgil’s lap. He said nothing, and pulled back out onto the road and drove the rest of the way to Dee’s house in total silence. Virgil didn’t look at the jar until after Logan’s blue sedan pulled out of the driveway. Dee was standing next to Virgil, a hand on his shoulder, and wasn’t saying anything either. The jar said Hustle Butter, but there was also a bottle of the same brand that said hustle bubbles.

“Dee, what the hell is this stuff?” Virgil asked, finally cutting through the very stiff silence. Dee looked at it, snorting a bit.

“It’s for your tattoo. There’s probably a care sheet, too. You need to take care of tattoos differently than you would regular skin. That’s a good brand, you shouldn’t have any problems.” 

“Why would he buy these for me? He didn’t want me to get the thing anyway.” 

Dee pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just get you cleaned up and find something to eat, Virge.”

  
  
  


***

Once Logan got home, he collapsed onto the floor next to the front door. He tucked his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. He didn’t hear his younger son approach, but he could see the shiny holographic boots that had become a staple of the kid’s fashion for the last decade. “Hello, Patton. Am I in your way?”

“Papa, what happened?” The teenager asked. Patton, who was 14, spoke much softer than his brother. “Virge isn’t texting me back, Dad sounded really mad when I called him, and you look terrible.” Logan laughed a little at that.

“Unfortunately, that is my fault, Pat. Virgil came home with a tattoo today, after sneaking out last night to get it, and we may have gotten into a bit of an argument.” Logan sighed. “I lost my temper and yelled at him, and he told me he wanted to go to your cousin’s house, so I dropped him off there. You know Dee has a thing about using cell phones all day, so Virgil’s phone is likely off. Roman is angry with me, not with you.” The front door slammed open, and Roman stood there, looking livid.

“Damn right I’m angry with you. How could you just LET HIM GO TO DEE’S HOUSE”

“Dad, I don’t think-”

“No, Patton, it’s okay, he has a right to be angry”

“But Papa-”

“Puffball, can you go to your room? We need to talk about this.”

“Wait- will you just-”

“Patton, please just-”

“WILL YOU LISTEN TO ME?” Patton screeched, much to the surprise of both of his fathers. They nodded. “Virgil needed to be away from the house. While maybe Papa shouldn’t have agreed to it so quickly, Virge was going to end up there one way or another. You both behaved irrationally today, and you can both apologize tomorrow. For now, Papa, you need to go get a shower, take your migraine meds, and change into more comfortable clothes. You look like you’re going to pass out. Dad, you need to put your work stuff down and call Dee, and make sure Virge is alright. And I need to work on homework, so if you could avoid yelling for like, 45 minutes, that’d be very helpful.” Patton smiled at them. “Okay? One-two-three- BREAK!” 

***

“He called me STUPID, Dee. To my FACE”

“I’m  _ sure _ that’s  _ exactly _ what he said, Virge.”

“He had tattoos when he was my age!”

“The tattoo that almost cost him his hand, or the one he got covered up three years later? Oh, wait,  **both** of those he got when he was your age. How peculiar that he wouldn’t want you to get them, then.” 

“He did not almost lose his hand because of a tattoo.”

“Yes, he did. He told me that story when I got my first tattoo. His first tattoo was on his wrist, you’ve seen it, I’m sure. It’s that weird faded grey bit of skin that pokes out from behind his watch that looks a lot like a bunch of scar tissue. It got infected, because he got it done by some rando in a garage somewhere, and he didn’t tell anyone. By the time Uncle Roman and Dad convinced him to see a doctor, the Staph had basically eaten all of the ink, and it took like, nine rounds of antibiotics before it went away. They were worried the scar tissue would permanently make his left hand impossible to use without pain. He’s very lucky he didn’t die.” Dee sighed and adjusted his beanie. “I know what it’s like to be a fifteen-year-old and want to rebel, but Uncle Lo was right that this was VERY STUPID. Not that YOU are stupid, but that you did a stupid thing. And I know, that you hate yelling or being talked down to, but I really do think you were in the wrong, here.” Dee sighed. 

***

“Virgil is okay. Dee showed him how to wash his tattoo with the stuff you bought him.” Roman sat down on the bed, next to Logan. “That was a smart thing to do.”

“My arm still hurts from mine. I wouldn’t want him to go through that if it can be avoided.”

“Lo-”

“No, Roman. I was in the wrong. Virgil may not be a child, but he isn’t an adult either, and I treated him unfairly.”

“You were worried, and you have a temper when people ignore you. Virge knows that, I know that, and Patton knows that.” Logan laughed a little

“God, Patton today. He’s going to have my temper too, isn’t he? You should have been the one to sire those little monsters.”

“Remus and I have the same DNA, and he made Dee. You really think if they were biologically mine they’d be any better?” There was a knock on the door, then, and Patton stuck his head in. 

“So, If we’re airing out things we did without permission should I mention I have a belly-button piercing?” Logan slammed his head into his pillow and screamed for a second before mumbling,

“I absolutely did not hear that.”

Patton giggled and lifted up his shirt, showing a noticeably non-pierced navel to Roman with a wink, mouthing ‘little monsters’ with an eye-roll. “Papa, do you want a coffee? I’m going to run across the street.

Get him an iced caramel whatever. Take a long time, will you?” Roman grinned at the teenager who immediately turned red and sprinted out of the room. 

“Great, now you’ve traumatized him.” Logan deadpanned, laying his head on Roman’s shoulder. “Please tell me my fourteen-year-old did not get a back alley piercing.” 

“He didn’t. I’m guessing that was his revenge for you ignoring him.” Logan groaned and laid down, his head in Roman’s lap. “Lo, you know Virge loves you, right? This isn’t going to change anything.”

“I.. don’t want to be like them. Like.. my parents were.” Logan admitted quietly. “I never want our kids to resent me like my brother and I resented them.” 

“Woah Woah Woah. You got in ONE fight with Virgil. He’ll stomp around Dee’s house for the weekend, and when he gets home, you will drink coffee and apologize, and he will too, and you will both be fine. This isn’t the same, Lo. You aren’t like them.”

“I hope not,” Logan mumbled. Finally letting himself cry. “I miss him, Ro. I know I shouldn’t have let Virgil go. But the whole thing was just like-”

“I know, starlight. This isn’t going to end like that, though.”

“Okay.” Logan’s voice was small and scared. “Can you go get Patton? I don't like him being out of the house.” 

“Of course. I’ll be back soon.”

***

  
  


Virgil was playing music loudly in Dee’s basement, pretending like he was justified in his anger. He was in a ratty old misfits shirt, one he had probably stolen from Dee years ago, and a pair of basketball shorts, and was about 45 minutes into a workout that he knew would leave him aching and too tired to be angry when it was over. He kicked the bag again, singing along to the Dead Kennedys song and pretending like it wasn’t something Papa had shown him. He went to swing at the bag for what was nearly the hundredth time when someone snickered from the stairs. Virgil missed the bag completely, throwing himself forward and landing face forward on the mat. The person on the stairs howled, and Virgil turned to glare at them. Standing on the bottom step was Remus, who had a book under one arm and a towel in his hand. 

“Okay kid, time to stop the workout. We’re having a  _ chat _ .” Virgil rolled his eyes and was promptly hit in the face with the towel. 

“What do you want? I know, Papa was just trying to protect me from doing the same dumb shit he did. I don’t care.” 

“Yeah, I know you don’t care. Hence, the chat.” Remus said with a sigh. “Come sit down, you goddamn emo nightmare.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Virgil did as he was told. Remus opened the book he was holding, which Virgil now recognized as a photo album. “Why are we reminiscing? I already know the story about the stupid tattoo he got.” 

“No, you don’t. And that doesn’t matter, really. But actually, I wanted to show you them first.” Remus turned to a dog eared page towards the middle, and suddenly, staring back at Virgil was a punk kid with his  _ exact face,  _ save for this kid had a black eye, and a garbage bag taped around his wrist. The kid had a smirk Virgil would recognize anywhere. This was unmistakably Logan, at fifteen years old. He was wearing a social distortion tour t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, black jeans, and what looked like the most worn-out pair of Doc Martens Virgil had ever seen. The picture below it was of the tattoo itself, crudely done with poor linework and blown-out lines everywhere. It said ‘Do better’. That was it. Virgil raised an eyebrow at his uncle, who had a small smile on his face. “He was so pleased with himself when he got that stupid tattoo done. He wanted a reminder to not be like your grandparents.” Remus nodded, to himself obviously, and turned the page. There were seven photos on the spread, the first being Logan flipping the camera off from a hospital bed, pale and looking like he was about to keel over. The second was Logan with his shirt off, and some guy tattooing his shoulder. The pictures didn’t look like they were taken very far apart. 

“He got another tattoo after almost dying from the first one?” Virgil asked incredulously, looking at his uncle for confirmation. Remus snorted.

“As a celebration for not dying from the first one. He took much better care of that one, to be fair.” The tattoo was of what looked like a bird, probably a crow, but it was hard to tell. 

“He doesn’t have a bird tattoo there. Isn’t that where he has the tree?” 

“Ro and I paid for him to get it covered up for his 18th birthday. He took good care of it but it still looked like a flaming bag of garbage.” Remus laughed

“Why are you showing me these, anyway. I know he doesn't like his parents and I know he picked a shitty artist and got sick. That doesn’t change that he literally just let me leave because he didn’t want to deal with me. It didn't change that he called me stupid.” Virgil crossed his arms. 

“I’m getting there, kid.” Remus bumped his shoulder into Virgil’s and turned a few pages forward in the book. There was Logan again, now in a misfits t-shirt and what looks like the same jeans as before. Sporting a gnarly bruise on his jaw and a split lip. He had a grin and a backpack slung over one shoulder, and from the way he was holding his arms apart, Virge could see the scarring on his wrist, meaning this was taken after the tattoo incident. Virgil looked at the t-shirt he was wearing. It was almost certainly the same one, with the same bleach stain on the left sleeve. “This picture was taken about an hour after Logan ran away from home,” Remus said quietly. “For the first time, anyway.” 

“Did he do that a lot?” Virgil asked with an eyebrow raise

“No. He only ran away three times, the last time he left home was because they kicked him out.” Remus shrugged. “But this time was important because he left after having the same argument with his dad that you just had with him. Well, kind of. Logan’s dad somehow didn’t know about the tattoos until he walked into Lo’s room while Logan was changing. Pretty hard to hide a big ink stain when you’re topless.” Remus shrugged. “His old man told him it was irresponsible, he was too young, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Of course, Logan was an asshole as a teenager, so he argued that he wasn’t a kid, that he was old enough to make those decisions, whatever. His dad told him he wasn’t going to have this conversation, that he could take it up with his mother- you’ve met her, she was definitely the worse of the two. Logan told him off, and when his dad still wouldn’t talk, he left. He stayed with us for probably three weeks before he got the call that his brother-”

“Papa has a brother?”

“Had. He _had_ a brother. He was older, and had the same sort of temper you and your Papa share.” Remus sighed. “When he had found out why Logan had left, he got pissed and went to go pick Logan up from our place. He wrapped his car around a tree, and never made it out of the O.R. Logan went home after that.”

“Oh god, did his parents blame him?” 

“No, no, of course not. Your grandparents weren’t good people, Virge, but they knew that argument was as much their fault as it was Logan’s. But Logan blamed himself, and that was enough.” Remus sighed. “I know it doesn’t excuse his actions, but I think, maybe, that the argument you two got into probably brought up a lot of difficult and angry feelings. Logan isn’t a robot. And when he gets upset, he says things that he doesn't mean, and the things he says don't always come out the way he intends them.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I acted like a jerk and I need to apologize.”

“Nah. You acted like a teenager. You DO need to apologize though. But not tonight. Tonight, we’re watching all of the Saw movies and eating way too much pizza.”

  
  
  


***

Eventually, Virgil went home, and apologized, and pretended to not notice how puffy Logan’s eyes were, despite the fact that it had been two days, and made him and Papa coffee. Logan apologized too, and told Virgil the tattoo did look cool, even if he should have waited another 9 months to get it done professionally, and they talked about what Virgil had done with Dee, and Logan pretended to not notice the way Virgil kept glancing at the scar on his wrist that was for the first time in years not covered up by his watch. And when Virgil hugged him and whispered. ‘You are better, Papa.’ Logan most definitely did not cry, and Virgil did not cry, and Roman did not give Patton the $15 he now owed the kid, and Patton did not snap a picture to add to his own photo album. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes, have some tragic backstory (tm)
> 
> You can find me at simplysanders on tumblr!
> 
> Feel free to comment, I crave human interaction.


End file.
